The bathroom of the apartment was large, with a freestanding white clawfoot tub, and aqua-blue tile and toilet, flowery wallpaper to the ceiling. A white porcelain sink stood on the same wall as the door, and a mirrored pharmacy cabinet hung above it. On one wall a linen closet opened to reveal all the bath and hand towels seen throughout the series—even the dish towels had a shelf! Oh, it was marvelous.

Ray and Brenda were waiting in an awkward silence that I guessed had been stretching between them since I’d disappeared inside. When I rejoined them outside on the balcony, the look on my face must have communicated everything I was feeling, because they both appeared a tad bewildered. “I love it!” I crowed. “It’s perfect.” They both smiled nervously. Brenda kept clicking her fingernail against the screen she was holding. I couldn’t wait for them to be gone.

“Ready to go upstairs? To see 304, Larry’s place?” said Ray. “And then I have something extra.” He smiled, but a cloud of euphoria had engulfed me, the color of brushed gold, and I only wanted to be alone with it, in it. I motioned for them to move ahead of me, back down the stairs, and as he turned Ray unfolded his arms and looked back at me, more perplexed than ever. “You don’t want to see 304?” he said. He sounded crestfallen, and for the briefest of seconds I considered it—completing the full tour, going through the checklist of items Brenda had so carefully made for me—the delivery schedules, the care and upkeep of the plants and storage units, the various fail-safes in case anything went awry unexpectedly—but I was impatient, yes, I was manic, desperate for them to get the hell out of there, and my previous feeling of wanting Ray’s approval, his acceptance—that pesky desire to be liked by another human being—triumphantly evaporated. For the first time in over a year, my original wish loomed up at me again, clearer than it had ever been. I wanted total isolation, and I wanted it now, this very minute.

“Oh, that’s all right, that’s all right. I’ll find it,” I said, suddenly breathless. “I’ll look at it myself. Everything is so magnificent, just perfect, just wonderful . . .”

My words flew out fast and shrill and I sounded like the crazed person I felt myself becoming—hysterically joyful, on the verge of a dazzling, supernoval breakdown—but I couldn’t stop. “It’ll be fine!” I now shouted. When I looked at their faces I raised my voice even louder, as if to drown out the disapproving drone of their expressions. “I will find everything myself! I can manage! And thank you! Thank you for coming! Thank you so much for being here, for doing this, your checks will be in the mail!” And at this Ray’s face fell; he looked confused and dismayed, looking back at me sharply, trying not to trip and fall to a broken neck as I practically pushed them down the stairs. I was definitely ready to get them the hell off my property, these people whom I had paid, these workers, these paid employees I had assigned tasks and to whom I’d given good work for more than a fair wage—why did he look so dashed?